


Strange Attractors

by mikeginsanity (blahblahwahwah)



Series: Chaos [2]
Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst fixer, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 18:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8412043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahwahwah/pseuds/mikeginsanity
Summary: Two and a half years ago, she watched the seeds of her mischief bear fruit.Amelia has to fix it. That's all she knows.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lawofavgs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawofavgs/gifts), [midnightxgarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightxgarden/gifts).



> What started out as a one shot became multichapter.  
> I can't get over this empty feeling of 105 so I kept at it.  
> Get yourself an Amelia sized custom made mouthgard. Y'all are gonna get a toothache.

Three years ago, if anyone would have told Amelia that growing a fetus in your belly, means growing a conscience as well, she would have laughed in their faces.

Mike’s farm - or orchard or vineyard or maybe it was a cabbage patch - that he owned up in Santa Barbara was a well-kept secret. If Amelia hadn’t scrutinized the label of that handmade preserve that arrived in a Christmas hamper last year, she would never have even suspected it. She never pegged him to be the grower kind – but then again, she never thought she’d be trying to sniff out his whereabouts either.

Whatever.

She was happy that he had a hideout no one knew about but was still accessible by road. She didn’t think she could handle a trudge to a cabin by the lake with swollen feet and a foul mood. Apparently, the little guy growing inside her belly was bitchier than she was.

The drive was scenic, the air felt clean and refreshing. Amelia rolled her head out breathing easy, letting her pale skin soak up the sun.

She had planned the bathroom breaks meticulously. The baby was hell bent on dancing right over her bladder and insisted on showing Amelia who was boss.  She took her pee break over at a convenience store that overlooked the ocean, to stock up on gas and food which had verified reviews that the bathroom was clean. Driving was getting tougher now. Swollen feet and a growing belly and a thimble bladder with raging pregnancy hormones – yeah - it could tire even a powerhouse like her.

Not that she minded.

She smiles and looks down, stroking her belly before she hops up on the boot of her car, looking out at the ocean, drinking the juice, peacefully.

The closer she gets to her destination, the more anxiously her heart beats. She takes deep breaths, like they taught her in yoga class to calm her pulse. She looks out into the rolling waves of the ocean and thinks about how she got here.

Three years down, _Ginnsanity_ has reached its plateau. Now, Ginny Baker is right up there with the sports greats - both male and female. Having proven her worth, having become the well-respected player she was, having grown into the role model she was destined to be, having shone like the star she was.

The first woman in major league baseball helped the Padres won the Word Series in her second year in one the most historic and nail-biting games ever recorded in history.

It was also the year that Mike Lawson made a graceful and long-anticipated exit, retiring to a relatively obscure life. Emerging only at broadcasting events, parties and the occasional charity game. Ginny and Mike’s professional relationship was cordial and renowned. They had already been slatted into the baseball history books among legendary battery-mates. They kept in touch with each other – as far as Amelia knew. Civil and friendly strangers, just as it ought to have been.

Amelia couldn’t have done any better.

But.

Amelia couldn’t have done any worse either.

Two and a half years ago, she watched the seeds of her mischief bear fruit. A few months after that, she stood by living through the pain of watching two very dear people stand on either side of an irreparable rift that she had created. She had hoped, against all hope that they would move on. That they’d find happiness in other – perhaps - better alternatives. That the attraction between them would fade and maybe a salvageable to a friendship might have been established for posterity.

Except, the longing looks would never stop. The pining glances never faded in intensity. At times, Amelia could have sworn she heard the unspoken ‘ _if Only_ ’s screaming into her ears, across opposing sides of room, spoken by sad eyes and broken hearts.

By all definitions Ginny was everything that Amelia had hoped for – and yet she was the unhappiest person that Amelia knew. That passion and fire waned from Ginny’s eyes as the semblance of age and maturity took over that girl. She watched her drift in and out of relationships with the most amazing men, each better than the last (Amelia would know because she set up the matches, most of the time) and with each passing day Amelia lived with a creeping sense of guilt and failure. They never understood her. They never saw her for what she was. They took away, more than they gave. Each time Ginny moved on, Amelia sensed her Pygamalion, the pride of her career was a lesser person than before.

It seemed at first, that she would never be happy.

And then, like sunlight piercing through the darkest clouds, shrouding over Ginny’s lonely and melancholy private life – Isaiah Maddox, the charismatic, handsome, philanthropist second striker and captain of LA Galaxy FC – the George Clooney of Soccer swept into her life like a knight in shining armor. Their relationship was the stuff of dreams, and even the tabloids stayed in line to support them.

Two days ago. Ginny was photographed walking through LA sporting a ring. A simple two carat diamond – far too understated - for a celebrity engagement ring, but a ring nonetheless.

And everything seemed wonderful.

Except.

Amelia knew what lay underneath.

Even with the perfect man in her life – Ginny wasn’t happy.

Only Amelia could see it.

She lived every minute knowing that she had failed the promise she’d made to Will Baker. She didn’t protect Ginny from the one person who would break her heart.

That person wasn’t Mike Lawson. That person was Amelia herself.

“And now…” She whispers to the little human inside her. “Now, we’re going to try and fix that. Because that’s what Mommy does. She fixes stuff.”

 

The Spanish style cottage is smaller than she expects. It seems homely and inviting. A stark contrast to that clichéd new-age glass house with its geometric minimalist interiors and a harem-like bachelor pad decor.

No one knew why Mike chose a life of obscurity, but Amelia knew that it was to get away from the constant pain of Ginny being so close yet so far. She didn’t fault him for that decision. She didn’t think any less of him for it either. If anyone could understand his pain, Amelia could. She kept herself in their way as pithy distraction for as long as she could. She swallowed her pride, she stuffed her failing sense of self-esteem and damned nearly became an alcoholic, forcing herself to be with a man who was incapable of loving her when his heart beat for someone else.

Six-ish months – she held on. And then she could do no more.

So yes. She understands why Mike would want to skulk away. Amelia, of all the people, has no business judging him.

When Amelia looks at the gorgeous orchards framed by the light of the setting California sun, she smiles to herself, impressed with Mike. No one could ever accuse him for having poor taste. This looks like the perfect place for him to find some semblance of happiness.

Maybe a new level of normal.

When she knocks on the door, she wonders if what she’s doing is right. On paper, it’s not. Ginny’s seemingly settling into a new life. Mike may have found some stability in this new life of his. Should she really step in and uproot it all just because _she_ is convinced they’re not happy. Wasn’t it her _convictions_ of what she thought was necessary the reason for this mess in the first place? And what she’s doing is risky isn’t it? It’s one thing to pine, it’s another thing to be in a relationship. What if all the doubts and arguments she had reasoned out in the outset would be proven true? Then what?

But then - Amelia cannot live with the guilt of never having tried.

A year ago, she probably wouldn’t have been doing this. But, Amelia found love a year ago – she’s having a baby boy with that love, now. Now - she discovers that she’s already in love with a little boy that she’s not going to see for another four months. And, if that boy is going to enter a world, it can’t be one where his mother deliberately hampered a great and powerful love – for the sake of feminism, legacies and yes, material gain.

So. If she can’t ever fix that broken love, then she’ll damned well apologize for it.

So yeah. Her tiny human baby boy who loved to poke his paws into her bladder every now and then for retribution turned her into a softy. Whatever.

There’s no response, after three knocks and a jab at the doorbell. Amelia sighs and makes a face. In another ten minutes, she’ll have to pee again. She looks around to see if there’s another way in. She spots a small door on the side façade, that’s unlocked.

The house is impeccably kept. Mike was a better housekeeper than a facial hair groomer, that's for certain. There are boxes of fruit, packaged and stacked around. There are baskets of those yummy preserves he doles out in hampers. She picks one out and opens it, because – yes – she’s hungry all the time and her baby happens to like the strawberry preserves sourced from his orchard.

She enters the living room, looking around for the bathroom, licking the syrupy trail off her index. She spots a door and it looks small enough to be a powder room. She scoops another fingerful and pops it into her mouth and heads towards it when she hears it.

Amelia rolls her eyes.

Of course, he’s with someone. Classic Mike Lawson. Always in constant need to mitigate his loneliness and his deep seated desire to be committed to someone. What is it with men and shoving their feelings in some floozie’s vagina? Why can’t they turn to icecream like she does?

But then again, she never used to turn to ice-cream. Not before the pregnancy. So, who was she to judge?

She sets the preserve on a table and walks in the direction of the noise. Determinedly at first, and then a thought pops that make her hesitate.

What if he’s in a relationship?

Mike’s always had a constant need to _be_ with someone. He would trade loneliness for monotony even if it came at the price of lack of passion.

Doubts creep. Ginny has stability with Maddox. If Mike’s found something with whoever’s there moaning her lungs out behind the door – does it make sense to fix something that doesn’t seem broken?

The kick inside her stomach indicates that the baby doesn’t think so. If anything, the last year has done, it’s made a believer out of Amelia Slater.

She sighs and puts her head to the door of the bedroom. That rhythmic creaking noise of a bed – that familiar baritone sound of his groans - Amelia’s done all that, she knows where he’s at.

She moistens her lip and cranks the door open.

Sure enough, Mike’s ass is there - the sheet slipped down to his thighs, clenching and thrusting into the someone hidden under the sheets.  

Amelia closes the door and huffs out, rubbing her belly. His lady friend is a loud one – and when she hears that familiar husky intonation of her moans she knows he’s probably chased after the closest thing to Ginny he can find.

That solidifies her decision.

She, leans against the doorframe and waits – the least she can do, is let them at least come first. At the very least, it seems like they’re having fun.

She rolls her eyes when she hears the girl cry out hoarse ‘Yes! Yes! _Fuck_! Mike!’ followed by Mike’s guttural roar.

“Okay!” She tells her baby, rubbing her belly. “It’s gonna be awkward! Brace yourself!”

She raps her fingers against the door and yells. “Mike! I’m coming in!”

She figures she owes his lady friend some dignity, right. Her baby doesn’t agree with her methods. Amelia chuckles as the little nugget kicks her in reprimand.

She kicks the door open, looking away. “Mike!” She shouts.

There’s the expected cursing and the shrieking and the shuffle of sheets. When she peeks through one opened eye she sees that his partner has completely immersed herself under the sheets and he’s got his hand firmly fixed over the comforter near the head section of the bed.

He’s stark naked, lying sideways over the comforter – glaring at her, his face completely flushed, his eyes still dark, that sheen of sweat glistening over his body, heaving, angry, ragged breaths.

She closes her eyes and looks away. He looks much better than she expected him to look. He’s lost weight and those core muscles look pretty chiselled. He’s grown out his hair a little, he’s got a shorter beard now and looks younger than he did when they were together.

“Mike!” She says sternly, when she realizes her thoughts are wandering towards how much sexier he looks now.

“Amelia?” He sounds incredulous. There’s a feminine squeal that she attributes to his lady-friend.

“What the fuck?” He roars.

“Get dressed!” She commands. “We need to talk.”

He sounds livid. “What are you doing here?”

She reckons if someone crashed into her afterglow, she’d be pissed as fuck too. But, she’s pregnant now so she’s always pissed as fuck, so she can’t be objective.

“I’ve come here to tell you that Ginny’s engaged.” She says.

No sense in wasting time on niceties. In about ten minutes she’s gonna want to run to the bathroom in a mad urgency – so she might as well get to the point.

“So?”

“So?” She opens her eyes and looks at him. He’s thankfully managed to pull something over his privates. It looks like a jersey. He looks like he’s had a lot of good sex. He's still panting, softly. That sheen off sweat shows off his features nicely. Amelia almost feels sorry.

_Almost._

She huffs and then something occurs to her. She points to the bundle under the covers. “Are you married?”

He looks at her like he’s grown an extra head (technically she has, only the head is inside her uterus). He scrunches up his face, those furrows a mix of horizontal lines and small vertical ones.

“What?” He barks in a higher pitched voice. He looks down at the comforter that’s moving and making some sort of disapproving noises. He looks back at her and shakes his head. “No!”

“Good.” Amelia says, sighing and leaning against the door frame. “Then get rid of her. You and I need to talk. Privately.”

“About what?”

“About you being in love with Ginny for that last three fucking years and not doing a thing about it.”

A noise comes out of that comforter. Amelia shrugs.

“I told you we needed to talk. She’s engaged now.”

“Yeah.” He says, nodding his head, that irritated frown on his face. “I know.”

“So – I’m calculating at least three odd months till she’s married. I’ve got a plan.”

“A plan for what?”

“For you to sweep her off her feet!” Amelia says, in a tone of fake excitement, trying to mimic those airheads she hates. “So the two of you can ride off into the sunset and be happy ever after!”

“Are you for real?” He says, sitting up, putting his elbow over the place where he’d fixed is hand.

A muffled “Ow! My hair!” escapes. He swats the comforter’s middle, like he’s spanking the butt of a child. The woman doesn’t make a sound after that. He adjusts himself and then looks at her, still breathing heavily.

“Yes.” Amelia says. “I’m for real.”

“Amelia.” He bites out. He tips his head towards the comforter. “I’m sort of in the middle of something here.”

“Mike.” She says, putting her game face on. The one she exercises when she’s about to launch into a speech that gets her exactly she wants. “I’ve watched you pine for her for the entire time we were together, I’ve seen the way you looked at her every time you two were together in the room. I know you loved her. I know you still love her. Guess what? She was in love with you too? She’s been in love with you since she was twelve. I think she’s still in love with you.” She points to the comforter wriggling by his side. “I’m sure that’s really good, whatever it is, but you need to dump her and hurry. Ginny’s about to make the biggest mistake of her life.”

God that sounds cruel when Amelia hears her own words. If she were under those sheets, she’d probably have started screaming and ripping someone’s hair by now.

The person underneath keeps wriggling, but seems trapped.

Mike moves his jaw around like he does when he’s thinking over something while he scratches his beard. Then - a sly smile appears on his face.

“So uh - did Ginny know you were coming here?” He says, scratching his beard again.

Amelia makes a face at him. “She thinks she wants to spend the rest of her life with Tyler Maddox! What do you think?”

A sarcastic smile appears on his face. “I’m thinking no.” He says, loudly.

“Shouldn’t we have privacy for this discussion?” Amelia says, frowning towards the comforter.

Mike ignores question. He leans his weight over the shape of the lady underneath. “Twelve huh?” He says, suddenly. A little loudly.

The comforter grunts, like the person seems to want to come out. Amelia can’t blame the girl. If she’d been under there, she’d have probably clawed her way out by now. 

Mike looks at her. Amelia watches him as his eyes scan her from top to bottom, his eyes stopping at her midriff.

“You’re pregnant?” He says, looking at her in disbelief.

Amelia sighs and shrugs her eyebrows. She runs her hand over her belly and then sneers at him.

“How far along are you?”

“Twenty two weeks.” She says, smiling down at her belly.

He nods his head, making a facial shrug- like he's impressed.

The comforter makes an annoyed sound again. Mike grits his teeth and keeps pressure on his elbow.

Amelia sighs out in pity and says. “Let her breathe.” She mouths pointing to the comforter.

Then to Amelia’s complete surprise Mike throws his head back and starts to chuckle.

“You’re a real piece of work, y’know that, Amelia?” He snorts, between laughs.

Amelia doesn’t say anything.

“Geez!” He barks, grinning wide and shaking his head. He looks down at the comforter and then shakes his head. “You didn’t tell me she was pregnant.” He says – to the comforter – to the person underneath.

What?

The comforter rolls and writhes. He guffaws loudly and wrestles it down like he’s forcefully keeping it pinned under his weight.

_What?_

Amelia’s mouth drops as shape wriggles towards the foot end and the shape of a fist punches it out, yanking its tucked edge out. The comforter flies open and Ginny fights her way out, naked, hair frizzed out, face flushed and glowing with either anger or a post-sex glow - looking – well legitimately angry.

Mike falls back roaring with laughter looking up at the ceiling. Ginny stumbles about, unabashed at her nudity. Amelia steps back as her lithe bronze body topples out of the bed. She flashes Amelia a menacing wide-eyed look and then stomps to grab a pair of underwear that’s lying on the floor and snatches the jersey off Mike.

Amelia swallows her gasp and looks up at the ceiling, feeling red with embarrassment, her baby moving inside like it’s jumping up and down clapping at the whole scene.

Her son’s going to turn out to be quite the snarky little ankle-biter, she thinks with small sense of pride.

Amelia smiles, despite herself. When she looks at the couple, Mike is still in stitches, sitting up in the bed, having dragged the comforter over himself, shoulders shaking. Ginny is perched cross-legged on his lap wearing the jersey with the number 43; that jersey has to be at least three sizes too big to be hers. And it looks like a boy’s jersey, even if - _Baker_ is written all over it.

Mike’s laughter subsides into a wide mouthed grin, his cheekbones lifted high – skin around his eyes crinkled as usual. Amelia notices that he has a hand rubbing at the small of Ginny’s neck.

_Oh. My. God._

“H-how?” She stutters. “How long have…?”

Ginny twists her mouth pensively and leans back against Mike. Amelia watches in shock as her girl looks up at the ceiling like she’s counting.

Amelia gasps softly.

“Ah! I dunno.” She sighs, scrunching up her eyebrows. “When did we get this place?”

“About two years ago.” Mike says, smiling affectionately at Ginny, pushing his hand into her hair and tugging on it, pulling her back gently. “Give or take – maybe a little less than two years.”

“Two-“ Amelia blinks. “Wha – Two years?”

Mike nods smugly and then plants a kiss into the side of Ginny’s forehead.

Amelia exhales. Her head starts to swim.

Two years. Nothing makes sense. Ginny’s relationships. Mike’s disappearance. None of it made sense. It wasn’t possible. How was it possible? Mike had retired only a year ago. That means they were..they were…

“That’s two years, _formal_.” Ginny says, still looking like she’s counting. “We actually got together earlier.”

“Before he retired?”

Mike barks out a loud smug short laugh. “Aha! Way before.”

“How- how…? How didn’t anyone find out?”

Mike shrugged. “Well we were careful. I mean – I didn’t want to leave before the World Series and Ginnsanity was all the rage then…it was…” His smile changes to a pensive frown. He scratches his beard as though he’s trying to recall something. “Yeah – I mean it was tough…it was pretty hard.”

“How could you have kept it a secret from me?” Amelia says.

“It was none of your business.” Mike says, plainly.

“Nah nah Old Man!” Ginny says. “She means - how did we get away with keeping it from her?”

“Oh.” Mike says, smiling good naturedly, rolling his jaw.

“I dunno, Amelia.” Ginny sighs. “We just did.”

Amelia blinks at them and shakes her head.

“Are you okay?” Ginny asks.

“I -.” Amelia says, shaking her head. A queasy feeling hits her lower abdomen. She clutches over her navel.

“Amelia?” Ginny straightens up.

“I uh…”

Ginny scrambles off the bed and rushes to her side. “What do you need?”

Amelia looks up at her and winces sheepishly. “I  - uh – I need to pee.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I mean if its too corny I could just stop now.


End file.
